


Randrabbles

by Garchomp445



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Drabble Collection, Friendship, Gen, Randomly Generated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4229694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garchomp445/pseuds/Garchomp445
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five randomly-generated drabbles using Fire Emblem: Awakening characters. These are simply meaningful interactions between two characters during their daily lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tharja attempts intimidation

Tharja looked over a slip of papers with her orders for the day. It seemed to be just the usual. Boring, tedious, as she liked it. More time to hex Robin into hanging out with her. Until she got to the bottom of the sheet. It said, in Frederick’s neat script

“Teach Cynthia (Sumia’s Daughter) how to use the dark mage uniform.”

She curses under her breath. Of all the distractions, Frederick was pairing her with the brightest, bubbliest, and happiest person in the entire camp?! This just couldn’t do, she had inscriptions and spells to prepare, if she had to sit around waiting all day for this girl to show up, she’d hex everyone in camp.

THWUMP! A loud crash is heard from the front of her tent. Tharja’s thoughts immediately go towards Sumia, but there is another person that clumsy whose incredibly, annoyingly loud voice is ringing out right behind her

“Hey Tharja! I need your help, could you…”

Tharja interrupts brusquely, already irritated.

“I know. Let’s get this over with quickly.”

Tharja turns around to see Cynthia already dressed in the very stylish dark mage outfit. Of course she’s put half of it on incorrectly, but from just a once-over, she’s almost impressed by the artistry and craftsmanship put into the sigils. She kneels down to examine Cynthia’s collar, leaning in both to make her uncomfortable, and to examine how well-made this uniform is. Whoever made this, they’ve committed the cardinal sin of competing for Tharja’s job, and there’s no way they aren’t getting cursed for it. She doesn’t even look at the poor girl’s face, she’s probably embarrassed enough as is. She continues down Cynthia’s body, staring at Cynthia’s cloak and hand bangles as she harshly questions

“Who made this uniform for you?”

“Oh! Mother, of course. She’s sooo good, isn’t she?”

Tharja curses under her breath, but continues prodding, regretting every word that comes out of her mouth more and more. This girl sounds perfectly calm, cheery and upbeat. Tharja isn’t being creepy enough. Ugh, she’ll curse Cynthia away from her later, but right now, she needs to force this answer out of Cynthia, prying with a harsh query

“Ugh. WHICH mother?”

“Um, the one I don’t call mommy.”

Tharja whips her head up to view the girl toying with her. Cynthia is beaming around the room, staring at anything and everything, especially the murals and weird inscriptions

Tharja was also livid, this child would dare ruin her day, then make fun of her? She glares up at the overly enthusiastic pegasus rider before her.

Cynthia was having the time of her life. She’d never been in Tharja’s tent before, and she had tons of interesting stuff! Who would’ve thought that someone collected those smelly boxes which risen loved? Or that there were so many different magical inscriptions and sigils? Cordelia had given her a primer on basic curses and spell-casting, but Tharja was the real deal! She glanced down at Tharja, saying

“Hey, could you teach me what those curses do?”

Is she just that oblivious? Tharja had suddenly become Cynthia’s undivided focus, and puts on her best scowl, although clearly nothing else had worked on this unflappable girl. She snarled at Cynthia, upset at the negligible effect her entire persona, the image she spent so much of her life to create, had on this child.

“No. And unless you tell me WHICH mother put this suit together, I won’t help you finish it, either!”

“Oh, I’m sorry… wait, what’s wrong with it?”

Cynthia’s expression of shock and new focus forced Tharja to realize that SHE was under this girl’s boot, not the other way around. She just needs to bear it for a few more minutes, then she’ll never have to see the blithering fool again. Tharja states at Cynthia

“Your bangles need to be further down your arms, your collar is backwards, and you haven’t polished your sandals enough. Other than that, it’s not too bad.”

“Well, it was Cordelia’s first try, so that’s nice to hear, thanks!”

“Just leave.”

“Thanks a lot!”

Tharja doesn’t want to interact with anyone else today.


	2. Priam is briefly upset about not fighting

“Priam, here are your orders for the day.”

Priam snatches the scrap of paper and greedily floods through the content, his disappointment reaching its climax with the end of the paper. Frederick has barely had time to turn around before Priam shouts in his general direction

“What?! Another day free of battle? Frederick, I did not join this army to sit idly around, drilling and getting acquainted with the local scenery!”

Frederick turns around. He is insulted, at the very least. Idle? This army? Not on his watch. He states clearly to Priam

“How about a quick sparring session.”

“Sure, let me get my equipme…”

“That wasn’t a question.”

Frederick pulls a wooden practice axe off of his back, and smacks Priam in the side. Priam yells

“What! I didn’t eve…”

Then gets hit in the chest, almost being knocked bodily over. Priam yells again, but another smack across shoulder topples him to the ground. Priam is about to indignantly say something, but Frederick puts a boot on his chest and begins calmly monologuing at Priam

“If you want to fight ceaselessly, that is fine. If you want to complain about how unfair it is that you don’t get to kill another man today, that is acceptable. If you want to complain about how my training is making you idle, I can rectify that. 200 laps around the camp.”

With the last two statements, Frederick almost grins at Priam, his barely contained amusement showing through. Whereas Priam unleashes his barely-contained rage, shouting

“That wasn’t a sparring session, you beat me while I was unprepare…”

but is interrupted by additional pressure on his chest and Frederick’s calm, stately voice

“A soldier should be prepared for anything.”

Then removes himself, putting the practice axe back and moving on to the other tents. What a great start to the morning. Most shepherds are too afraid to insult Frederick, so corporal punishment is a rare treat indeed. Priam takes off at a jog, cursing under his breath. He doesn’t care if anyone in the camp thinks him a fool, but beaten to the ground that easily? The shepherds have themselves one hell of a lieutenant, and he’s definitely someone to duel later.


	3. Virion and Gangrel become friends

“Heeey, pal, I was wondering if we could talk.”

Virion was enjoying a spot of tea and biscuits in the barracks while reading a book Robin had recommended to him. Past tense, because the sight of the murderous despot was enough to make his stomach churn. VIrion responds harshly

“I don’t have anything to talk about with you.”

“See, that’s where I think you’re wrong. We both used to rule countries, and we both got our asses handed to us. We’ve got pleeenty to discuss.”

“Fine. I’ll just outline some key differences between us. I was a benevolent ruler, kind and wise, if I don’t say so myself, and you were a butcher. Happy?”

Gangrel flinched. He knew this wasn’t going to go well, but it couldn’t hurt to try. If there was anyone who could give him some advice with rebuilding his country, it had to be Virion. He responded casually, although very conscious that Virion had noticed his flinch

“Yeah, that’s what the history books are gonna say. I learned from Robin, though, and it’s never too late to turn over a new leaf. All I need is some advice.”

Virion lets out a long sigh. Gangrel was obviously actually trying, but Virion just didn’t care. He has an entire country to deal with, plan for, and build up. Maybe with just a little advice, he’ll go away. Virion responds in a hostile but calm manner

“You could try to raise funds during downtime to pay for basic necessities.”

“Got it. Oh ho, those supply lines I set up could be useful…”

Supply lines? Gangrel might be slightly craftier than Virion thought. He decided to test this hypothesis. Gangrel turns to leave, clearly pondering what had been said, but Virion asks an informal question

“Gangrel, do you know how to play the game of Chess?”

Gangrel spins on his heel, clearly a practiced, but artistic maneuver, and says, more comfortable than he first entered the room

“Of course, chum, care to go a round?”

“I would indeed. Perhaps I could conjure up some more advice for you, if you’re serious.”

“Bwahaha! So it’s a test! Well, I’ll pass the exam with flying colours, AND win the game!”

Virion makes a slight smiles as he realizes the true energy of the man. He may indeed be a good ruler for Plegia, and he will at least do better than Validar. With a practiced smirk, Virion simply states back to Gangrel

“We shall see.”


	4. The reason Sumia does not have more male supports

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Uaagh!”

Sumia falls almost directly into the pile of clothes Priam was carrying away from the river, and flings her book towards him too. Priam catches the book with one hand and dodges Sumia’s face with the other, letting her smack into the ground. She can’t even stand on her feet for long periods of time, how is he supposed to take her seriously? He says calmly

“Are you uninjured?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!”

Priam walks around Sumia as she tries to pick up and dust off herself, reviewing her battle prowess clearly. She was skilled, but clumsy to an almost ridiculous degree. If she was in his army, she wouldn’t have lasted a day. So how had she lasted here? What drove her to fight? Priam turns back around towards Sumia, who’s back up on her feet, and searching around. She says

“Uh, Priam, did you see where my book went?”

He spends a moment longer than is necessary examining her searching strategy. If it was on the ground where she had dropped it, she would’ve found it. He states, colder than usual

“I have it.”

“Thanks!”

She turns around, notices his puzzled face, and he gives her the book and a question

“How do you fight?”

“Um… Well, I use my lance and pegasus, she usually helps me pierce armour and avoid magic...”

Sumia is messing with her hair, and turning away, obviously signalling that she wants to leave. Priam isn’t oblivious, he just doesn’t care. If Sumia is using some kind of special technique to remove her clumsiness during battle, then that should be applied to everyone. He states

“Sumia, usually you’re extremely clumsy, sometimes to an unacceptable degree. How do you remove your clumsiness in battle?”

With a serious look on his face, Priam stares directly at her eyes. Sumia cocks her head slightly, bemused at how he takes this so seriously. She smiles a bit and explains

“Well, I don’t actually ‘remove’ my clumsiness, it just goes away during battle. You know how you can get really caught up, stabbing, slashing, killing, just like a berserker rage? That’d probably be my explanation.”

Priam’s mouth drops open, and his clothes fall from his hand. Awe surges through his mind. Very few people can get lost in a frenzy of battle, and it’s not a skill that can be taught. Even Priam can only do it for the most intense of bouts and fights, but Sumia does it for every battle? No wonder her daughter had so many tales of glory and destruction. No wonder she was always put in front of formations, and managed to kill two people in the span it takes anyone else to kill one. He tries to sputter out something, gesturing and making faces, but Sumia nervously lowers her head and runs away.


	5. Just a fight

“Fight me!”

“Sure! Right now!”

“Urk, we’re in the middle of camp…”

“You have a weapon, I have a weapon, and we’re both wearing armour. Let’s do this.”

“Yeah!”

Kjelle points her silver lance at Flavia, and she presents her silver sword at Kjelle. The afternoon sun beats down on them, a long day of training and battle merely a warm-up in their minds.

Flavia knows that Kjelle is more fanatical than her, and practices whenever she can, literally. Fortunately for Flavia, her age gives her an advantage in experience. This kid stands no chance.

Kjelle is confident to the utmost. Sure, Flavia has more experience, but she hasn’t trained constantly for the past five years. She has paperwork, delegation, and recruiting new fighters to worry about. Flavia stands no chance.

Kjelle charges, and Flavia does a backflip over her, but Kjelle wasn’t ill-prepared. Flavia meets Kjelle’s lance mid-air, then lands and dodges the shaft as Kjelle rotates faster than that much armour should reasonably allow. Kjelle’s faster than she thought. Flavia parries the blow, feints, then almost manages to get a hit in before Kjelle shoves her to the ground with her giant shield. Flavia rolls towards Kjelle for a surprise attack, but Kjelle jumps away, inadvertently letting Flava get back up. Flavia is adept at adapting to sticky situations, and Kjelle isn’t sure how to counter that surprise roll without leaving herself open from another angle. They clash again, metal breezing past metal as they skillfully predict and dodge over and over again. Kjelle purposefully leaves her stance open and her shield useless, and Flavia takes the bait, striking directly downward. Kjelle drops her stance and shield, and grabs Flavia’s sword hand, relying on her superior bulk to stay the blow, and her lance to protect her from Flavia’s shield. Flavia is slightly stuck. She’s seen this move before, but only once, from a plucky swordmaster who thought herself tougher than a Khan. That time, she was simply strong enough to overpower it, and never thought of it again. This time, though?

Flavia’s sword flies through the air, ripped out of her grasp. Almost immediately, a spear is thrust toward her, which she grabs and swings underneath, almost loosing Kjelle’s grip. In such close proximity, Flavia uses a wrestling grapple before Kjelle can punch with her free hand. Flavia bends backward to slam Kjelle back-first onto the dirt, straining every muscle in her body with the effort required, then rolls over to where she last saw her sword.

Kjelle had the wind knocked out of her, but with both a sword and a lance, Flavia has no chance. There’s a reason why some techniques are standard, but against an opponent who’s seen everything, improvisation is everything. She slowly gets back to her feet and turns to face Flavia, who has just now realized where her sword is. Flavia says

“Crafty bastard. Slick move, but if you don’t know how to use it, I wouldn’t mind having that sword back.”

“Not a chance.”

Kjelle charges the unarmed woman, using the lance to stop her from jumping too far, and sword to get her in range of the lance. Flavia tries to jump over her, but Kjelle simply thrusts the sword in the air, and Flavia dodges to the ground. Kjelle pierces the ground to the right of Flavia with her lance, then attempts to stab with the sword, but Flavia throws herself between Kjelle’s legs, and grabs the sword’s hilt, knocking her opponent to the ground and recovering the sword. Kjelle rolls over and swiftly recovers, but Flavia stands on her lance arm and chest, pointing the sword at Kjelle’s throat. Kjelle sputters out, amidst gasping for breath,

“Har… ha… You’ve… won…”

“Yeah… but… it was… the best fight I’ve had in a while.”

Every limb on Flavia’s body decides that right now is a great time to take a nap, and both of them faint on top of each other.


End file.
